


Isolated Haircuts

by Yass_Rani



Series: The Karman Stories [2]
Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020), Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020) RPF
Genre: M/M, Quarantine Shenanigans, Takla!Aman, i love them whoever had that idea god bless, takla aman, that one prompt from the fanfic fanpage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yass_Rani/pseuds/Yass_Rani
Summary: Aman's hair grew so much in quarantine Kartik had called him Bucky Barnes once - he decides to solve it but it doesn't go the way he expected it to.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Series: The Karman Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644433
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	Isolated Haircuts

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it! Please like and leave comments, I appreciate everything!

As a natural introvert, Aman often dreamt about not socialising and just staying home for days together in comfy clothes, but now that he’d been required to do it, the stubborn part in him wanted nothing more than to go outside.

Nearly two months. Aman had been stuck in his apartment for two months, trying to get work done but mostly trying to keep himself sane.

Not that his husband was any helpful.

The first few weeks were alright; more than good, even – the two men were still in their honeymoon phase and everything seemed much better when they both stayed home all day and spent every moment with each other, just like the normal weekends they loved. They’d fall asleep together, sleep into the day together or sometimes wake up before the other. Sometimes, Aman would try surprise Kartik with breakfast, only to be surprised himself when his husband would hug him from behind, having woken up while he cooked. Kartik would play some music at random times of the day, dragging Aman from his laptop for an impromptu dance session. They’d watched Sholay at least twice every week and Kartik was adamant on watching at least one Amitabh Bachchan movie each day.

However, as it neared the one month mark, they found themselves running out of things to do and everything seemed to fall into a boring routine where every day seemed the same; no concept of weekdays or weekends or time itself. They’d still cook together, sing and dance and watch movies, talk into the early hours of the morning and sleep into late hours in the day – but it felt the exact same each day and they tried their best to spice it up, although nothing eventful had happened in weeks.

Until now.

Despite the weeks of quarantine and not being able to go to a salon, Kartik had kept his hair in top condition – having learnt to manage his own hair through the years of struggling between not being able to afford to go to a salon and being judged for his hairstyle choices. The same, however, could not be said about Aman.

His hair had grown out a lot due to him sharing his husband’s extensive hair care products. The brown strands were now framing his face in smooth waves and Kartik had even compared him to Bucky Barnes that one time he was a little tipsy on wine. Although he couldn’t disagree on the fact that it looked good on him – as Kartik had fawned over it on multiple occasions – Aman had never been a fan of having long hair and found it weird having to brush his hair with an actual _hairbrush_ than just combing through it with his fingers like all his life – not to mention the fact that he would have to constantly brush strands off when they got in his face and needing to either tie it up into a low bun or a ponytail.

He’d originally decided on not going anywhere even after the lockdown would be eased until the pandemic situation was back to normal, but his hair seemed to have not received the memo and he was seriously wishing salons would open up – there was no way Aman would cut his hair himself. Doing it once and failing _and_ having his sister lose it when she saw him was damaging enough to not try again. There was, however, one more option.

Asking Kartik to do it for him.

Aman decided to go for it. It took two whole days of him dealing with Kartik’s dramatic reactions over his request – Aman had never really _asked_ him to do anything, preferring to be highly self-sufficient after his family’s suffocatingly high need to do stuff for him, although he never protested when Kartik himself did something for him – which meant his husband was over the moon at getting a chance to do Aman’s hair, even if it meant he would never be able to see the long hair again.

Thus, two days later, Aman found himself sitting on a stool in their bathroom in a silk robe and scented candles around him (Kartik had insisted on pampering him with the “best salon experience possible”) with his husband holding a hairbrush and all the necessary equipment set on the sink counter in front of him. After a three minute monologue directed to his hair – about how badly it would be missed and how it was a pure work of art that Aman was too old-fashioned to appreciate – Kartik started wetting the dark brown strands and snipping off hair this way and that.

About ten minutes passed, and Kartik hummed, sounding somewhat pleased as he stepped back and looked at Aman’s still wet hair, using a towel to brush off the leftover hair on his robe and smiling at his husband in the mirror. Aman had bit his lip to shreds during the time Kartik worked on his hair – not that he didn’t trust him, just that he was _extremely_ particular about his own hair – and took a deep breath before opening his eyes to look at himself in the mirror.

His hair seemed fine. Aman’s chapped lips curled into a smile when he saw his hair short again and ran his hand through it, his smile widening as his fingers didn’t snag through a lock of hair or tangle in it like they did many times in the past week. He decided to let it air dry as he got up from the stool, pressing a kiss to Kartik’s lips and whispering thanks while they both cleared the leftover mess in the bathroom.

After they were done and Aman changed into his pyjamas, he shook his head, noticing with a smile when no strands of hair fell into his face. He walked out of their bedroom into the kitchen where Kartik was making dinner, causing him to look up at the sound of his husband closing the bedroom door.

He almost missed the way Kartik’s eyes slightly widened, but when he followed up with a gulp, Aman realised something was off.

“Is everything okay? Is there something on my face, Kartik?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows when Kartik gulped again.

“N- No, everything’s alright. Um, don’t- don’t worry, just go set the table I’m almost done cooking,” he stammered, avoiding Aman’s eyes at all costs, the parathas on the stove suddenly striking him as very interesting.

Aman decided to brush it off and walked off to set the dining table. He put on songs on the speaker and waited for Kartik to get food on the table, occasionally tapping his foot or humming to the music. Dinner went by without much event, Kartik was quieter than usual and only replied in short answers and grunts to whatever Aman said.

By the time they went to bed, Aman was tired of his husband’s sudden mood shift and he needed to know what was wrong – because if they had _one_ rule in the house, it was that they’d never go to bed confused about the other’s feelings, god knew they did that a lot before they got together.

“Kartik. What’s wrong?”

He coughed. “Nothing,” he replied in a very unconvincing voice, which only caused Aman to probe in more.

“What is it Kartik?”

“Um. Just- nothing much. Just your hair-”

“Is this about me not wanting long hair? Kartik I thought you agree–”

“No uhm-,” Kartik stopped abruptly and vaguely gestured towards the mirror, knowing full well _he_ would definitely not be confused about Aman’s feelings tonight – or for the rest of his life, maybe.

Because if there was one thing Aman hated more than having long hair, it was having a _bad haircut_. Even worse, a _mushroom_ haircut.

Which was exactly what Kartik had done.

To say Aman was surprised would be a colossal understatement – the screech of pure terror and anger resonating through the house made his husband want to dig himself a hole and never come out of it. His eyes were as wide as saucers when he turned around to face Kartik, clutching at his hair and opening and closing his mouth in desperate efforts to say _something_ , except all that came out, was puffs of air as he glared disbelievingly at his husband.

Kartik was, well, terrified, to say the least. He’d seen Aman react to people with bowl cuts and it was _not_ pretty. He’d also seen him angry before – not very pretty either. (Angry Aman did look _hot_ in Kartik’s opinion but when it was directed at him, nope.)

The rest of the night went by with Kartik fervently apologizing – he knew how to do his own hair but he didn’t think he could mess up someone else’s – while Aman gave him the silent treatment, turned on his side and not even acknowledging him. As it hit around 2 am, Kartik realised he should probably just give his husband time to talk to him and decided to shut up and go to sleep.

\---

The next morning wasn’t exactly helpful either.

Aman was already sulking off and continuing on his day without a single word to Kartik – who’d woken up and decided to atleast make breakfast for his husband, but failing because Aman had already done it before he could wake up. They both sat on far ends of the couch as Aman turned on the news, only to see a live speech from the Prime Minister, causing them both to slightly flinch at having to watch it first thing in the morning – it was about the current situation, so it wasn’t like they could’ve avoided it.

“The lockdown will be eased from tomorrow, there will still be restrictions in public but people can visit their friends or family as long as there are below ten people in one house.”

Aman was already mortified when he realised the very real chance of people seeing his awful hair and his phone ringing immediately after just made it worse. He answered the call without seeing who it was and his face froze as he listened to the person on the other side, only answering back in short hums and wide eyes until the call ended.

It was Goggle.

It was Goggle and she said she’d be visiting.

It was Goggle and she said she’d be visiting _tomorrow_.

The sheer stress Aman was going through for the rest of the day threw Kartik off balance. He kept running a hand through his hair, tugging it this way and that and trying to find ways to hide the horrible haircut, refusing to look in the mirror even once. He’d snapped at him about minor things like leaving his blanket on the couch, charger switched on and not cleaning his side of the bedroom. Kartik knew he’d messed up and took all of it without complaint, he knew the moment he said something Aman would screech at him like what he imagined Goggle would when she saw his haircut.

They’d cleaned the apartment and gotten the guest bedroom ready for Goggle, still not on the best talking terms as Aman only communicated in one-word sentences all the while. They had dinner, went to bed and even as Kartik fell asleep quick, Aman spent the entire night tossing and turning, trying to think of anything he could do to immediately disappear off the planet.

Kartik woke up the next day and heard Aman moving around in the bathroom. Deciding to let him take a shower first, he went to the kitchen to make some breakfast and get some energy to deal with Goggle from some good coffee. He made omelettes for himself and Aman, put on some music and cupped his coffee mug in his hands as he leaned over the kitchen counter, listening to Md. Rafi’s voice wafting through the place.

At the sound of footsteps, he looked up with a smile – which faded instantly as his eyes widened and he almost dropped the mug in his hands.

Aman was standing in the bedroom doorway, and he didn’t have a mushroom cut anymore.

He didn’t have _any hair_ anymore. He’d shaved it off in the morning, deciding it was all he could do at the moment to avoid Goggle’s comments the moment she’d walk in.

Although he didn’t completely manage to avoid comments, Goggle’s reaction was much better than what she would’ve said if she saw the ghastly bowl haircut – god knows Keshav had gotten enough of her when _he_ turned up with a mushroom cut a few years ago, and she still hadn’t let him live that down. At least she said Aman looked older and then stopped at that after teasing Kartik about having a sugar daddy for a husband and saying he was a trophy husband for her cousin.

It wasn’t great, but it was alright.

Kartik knew he wasn’t gonna die tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can message me or send an ask to be tagged or send in a prompt. Main master list and request list are linked in bio on my Tumblr: yass-rani


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